The Dragon King
by Mayze-Sig
Summary: Zanen Ubel is the estranged prince of the Muggle empire Americana. His father, the emperor, has enslaved all wizards. Zanen's other-worldly power is unleashed and he leads the war of liberation alongside Albus Potter.
1. Chapter 1

April 2001:

DESCRIPTION

In 1995, the Muggle government discovered magic.

The military of the world's largest empire Americana had been researching the latest form of weaponry. For years the organization High Power Human Specimen Investigation Bureau, a top secret military facility, had determined the existence of people who were capable of what they considered to be magic. The Bureau captured many alleged magicians and studied them in detail.

When the team had discovered the immense potential of damage magic could be, they tried to extract magic from these people; tried to force the wizards to do magic; to become magical themselves. None of these attempts succeeded. However, the team did make a machine with the ability to detect individuals with magic and developed technology which rendered magic useless.

In 2001, the ruler of Americana, Emperor Thor Ubel, ordered for all Americana witches and wizards to be rounded up and placed in prisons. By law they were called "Wickeds." Alarmed at the numbers climbing into the hundred thousands, Americana used its world influence to launch a planet-wide investigation. The Muggles of Britain were relocated and the majority of witches and wizards were sent to the island, which was christened Wicked Isle.

Instead of mass execution, with their superior technology the Muggles were able to force witches and wizards to do labor work. Materials were produced at five times the rate of non-magical production and thus Emperor Ubel kept the wizards as an economic necessity; as slaves.

*~*March 2001*~*

Sunlight fell in through the high window and threw the black and white marble table into a bright glare. The enormous, lavishly decorated room was silent but for the ticking clock. Yet the room was occupied by four children. Two boys sat across from each other, a magnificent chess board between them. Another boy and a girl relaxed on the sofa, watching the match.

"Zanen," began the girl. She had a plain face that was rescued by make-up and framed by waves of blonde hair. She had a terrible whining note to her voice. "It's your ibirthday/i and all you can think of doing is playing chess. Artem is going to beat you anyway."

"You've got twenty seconds," announced the boy named Artem. He was also blond with clear eyes and a visage that came with a constant smirk.

"All I need is five," whispered Zanen. In stark contrast to the others, his hair was jet black and straight and his smooth skin was a shade darker. The light coming in from the window illuminated his electric blue-green, cat-like eyes. He reached out a long fingered hand and moved his knight. He now addressed the girl. "What else should we do, Felicia? Throw a party?"

Felicia rolled her gray eyes to the heavens. "Duh."

Zanen's expression of seriousness softened slightly. "You can feel free to throw a party, but don't make me the excuse. I'm twelve after all. Check mate," he added.

Artem blinked at the chessboard coldly. Had he moved his king right into check?

The third boy, who had been watching with utter boredom, now sat up straight. "Zan just beat Art?" Edgar said blankly. He pushed his dusty hair out of his hazel eyes in disbelief.

"In front of everyone this time," Zanen stated with chilling calmness.

Artem scowled. "I went easy on you for a birthday present," he snarled.

"You're really on a roll, Zanen," said Felicia brightly. "You beat me three times last week and even beat Demi within ten minutes."

"I still have the bruise from that sore loser," Zanen smiled slightly. "I finally figured out

your strategy, bro. I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"I said it was for your birthday," said Artem through gritted teeth. "Just take it and leave it, ass."

"Anyway," Felicia piped up, "let's go into town. What d'you say, guys?"

"You can't go without security, where's the fun in that?" Zanen asked.

"Oh, you're pathetic," Felicia snapped. "Just because one thing takes away a little bit of fun you don't give up on a fun situation entirely, Zanny."

"Whatever." Zanen got to his feet and the other three followed suit. "I'll walk with you guys to the front and think of something else to do." Zanen was dressed in his daily attire: dark red trousers and a high-collared white jacket with naval-style gold fastenings and detailing.

At that moment the heavy wooden door opened. A butler in a black suit entered the room and cleared his throat. "Lady Amira requests His Highness Zanen to join her in the garden."

"Okay—" Zanen began.

"Oh, Scott, just the person I needed," said Felicia from behind a compact mirror. She pursed her lips then looked up. "Me, Artem and Edgar want to go into town. Make the arrangements."

"Forgive me, Your Highness Felicia." Scott the butler bowed his head. "As there is a major political meeting taking place, security is scarce. I am afraid you cannot go out today."

Felicia closed the compact with a loud snap. She glared at Scott the butler. "I gave you an order to make the arrangements, Scott, do as I say."

The butler bowed his head again. "Your Highness, I am afraid…"

A woman's voice rang out in the hallway outside the den room. "Scott, please make arrangements for my children and myself to leave in half an hour."

"Your Majesty!" Scott gasped. He opened the door and a lady with curled short blond hair and an exquisite cream and gold business suit entered the room. "You mean to say you left the meeting and wish to depart?"

"Don't question me, Scott," Empress Jania sniffed. "Artem, Edgar, Felicia; please join Demorall and I in the entrance."

"Yes," the three fair haired children sighed. Everyone left the room.

Typical, Zanen thought darkly as he followed Edgar. The others took a right down the hallway while Zanen headed to the left. The mansion was one constructed from old money during old times and therefore still had original gold embossed wood carving, oriental rugs and iron wrought window panes. Zanen stared at his feet as he walked, his mind on the chess match. He knew he had won fair and square, that Artem had genuinely fallen for his trap.

His feet carried him down a sweeping staircase and a marble floored entrance way. The grandeur of the place made him feel sick.

Zanen exited the front door without looking back. He was still lost in thought, replaying his opponent's moves over and over. He doubted Artem would fall for the trap again but he thought he had another idea for next time based on the probability that…

He was jerked out of his thoughts by pain as he walked straight into a bush. Zanen took a step back and glared at the green sculpture of an angel. As if this place is anywhere near heaven, he thought bitterly. He shook his head and looked around. He made his way

towards the garden.

He finally arrived at the center of the garden. A woman sat at one of the little white iron tables near a bed of hydrangeas. Her skin was olive; her thick, long hair as black as his. The dark blue dress she wore fluttered to the ground and an indigo shawl was draped around her straight shoulders. She smiled widely as he approached.

"Happy birthday again, Zanen." She spoke in Arabic with as soft of a voice as the guttural language could permit.

"Hey mother," Zanen replied also in Arabic. He pulled up a chair and sat down. "Thanks again."

"Oh, you look so serious, my dear," Lady Amira stated, taking in her son's aloof

expression. "You get so into your puzzles."

"I beat Artem at chess," Zanen informed her. He looked up into her elegant face and felt something warm rise in his chest at the pride he saw in her blue-green eyes. "This time Ed and Felicia witnessed it."

Amira continued to smile. "Aha, I see. Well done. Is he still a difficult opponent?"

"I think he will be," Zanen said slowly. "I found a loophole today and I think I know how to go so he falls for something similar." He squinted at a patch of grass and sighed after a minute. "Jania took the three of them out again."

Amira's smile faded. "Even when there's the conference on the Wicked being held right now?" Zanen nodded and her frown became more pronounced. "That would explain why even my Robert retreated."

"Your guard left?" Zanen said angrily.

"In any case it is foolish for her to go into public at a time like this," Amira said seriously. "There is so much unrest…the people do not know what to make of this whole situation."

"What do you think, Mother?" Zanen watched her gaze across the garden. Another breeze came, causing Amira's hair to flutter gracefully. Thirsting for answers, Zanen continued, "This whole thing about wizards who can do magic. Father is going to oppress them, isn't he? I mean, he wouldn't execute them…he has to wring them dry first, right?"

Amira looked squarely into Zanen's bright, handsome face. Her eyes now appeared clouded. She reached her hand out across the table and Zanen took it. "Zanen," she said softly, "always remember this: lording over the weak or helpless is wrong, but making people stronger than yourself go into a position of disgrace is just as bad. Humankind has a tendency to oppress and use each other. Justice and equality are important to strive for. You must remember this."

Zanen's lightning mind processed these words. He knew in a small way how it felt to be pushed into a position of lowliness even though he deserved better recognition. Just because his mother was only the Lady of the Emperor did not make him any less entitled to the throne in the future. He was in fact Crown Prince to the sixteenth Emperor of Americana.

"Power is destructive, Zanny," Amira cut into his musing. "Only those prepared and

willing to lose power deserve to hold it."

Zanen was thinking through this when there was a sudden noise in a nearby bush.

"My Lady!" cried a voice.

Zanen and his mother looked over sharply at a man in a police uniform sprinting towards them. Before they could call out to Robert, there were two consecutive loud bangs quite close behind them. They both watched as Robert keeled forward and fell face-down on the grass.

"Mom!" Zanen cried. They both stood and backed away from the table.

More shots rang out. Zanen seemed to turn as though in slow motion. The air left his lungs as before his eyes Amira staggered backwards. She tried to grab at the table for support but missed, and stumbled to the ground in a kneeling position.

"Mom!" Zanen screamed again. He threw his chair aside but the next moment he felt something collide with the back of his head. He fell sideways heavily. Stars blurred his vision but he heard his mother…

"Zanen-!" 

"Mother!"

There were footsteps, a terrible gurgling noise, a thud, and then silence. Zanen hastily got to his knees, blinking through his dizziness. All he could make out before him was bright red and green. The red was overtaking the green of the grass, staining it deep purple.

He scrambled backward, his heart thumping wildly. He flung his arms over his head and cowered, not entirely sure from what; perhaps from the fear itself. Now the ability to speak was wiped from him…he seemed unable to breathe….

A rush of desperation seized him. "Robert!" he screamed, and his voice cracked. "Robert, help, come help Mother. ROBERT!" He squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering on the spot. A pressure seemed to constrict his chest and he couldn't breathe. "Mother…mommy…mommy…."

She might still be okay, a little voice said in his head. He lifted his head and crawled over to her. She was lying flat down. From the back she looked okay.

"Mommy," Zanen sniffed. He lifted her shoulder as hard as he could. His heart dropped out of his chest as he saw the great gash that nearly went clean through her neck. He let the body go and fell back in horror. He looked around, fear obscuring all sense of thought. "Mommy… DAD!" he bellowed. "Daddy!"

He shakily got up to his feet. He couldn't leave her there…He looked down at her and the pool of blood had grown alarmingly. He let out a wail, turned, and ran.

He ran as fast as he could. He tripped into a little hole and felt a sharp pain in his ankle, but he kept running. He was hyperventilating, he couldn't breathe…Mother couldn't be.

What had just happened?

He ran and ran, now weeping freely. He flew towards the Emperial Hall where the meeting was in session. A dozen guards stood at the door.

"Your Highness!" they shouted as he dashed up the steps.

Zanen threw himself into the bright red door with full force. "Father!" He bellowed. He began pounding his fist on the door as he slid down it, his body aching. "Father- Your Majesty – it's me, it's Zanny!" 

Pairs of hands pulled him away.

"NO!" Zanen screeched, beside himself. "Mommy's dead, daddy, mommy's dead!"

"What did you say, Your Highness?" said a guard sharply.

"His hands are covered in blood!" said another guard in alarm.

Without a second's warning the door burst open and caught Zanen full on. He went crashing backward and slid down some of the stone steps helplessly.

"What is this nonsense, Zanen you fool," said a dangerous voice.

Zanen lifted his head, shivering. "Father…" He looked up at the tall man with a hard face and trimmed graying yellow beard. His eyes of ice seemed to deaden Zanen further. His blood red robe swished as he took a strong step forward.

"His Highness Zanen claims that Lady Amira is dead, Your Majesty," reported the guard in undertone.

Zanen let out a whimper. His heart was being cut out of high chest, he was sure of it…

"What of it?" said Thor angrily. "What a weak fool you are, Zanen."

Tears burned in Zanen's eyes as the words came down on him. "B-but it's true…Mother was m-murdered!" He stifled the first sob.

"I had faith in you, Zanen," Thor growled, "but now I can see you will not be fit to rule Americana. I should have known, you got your mother's weak heart."

Zanen kept his head bowed. A red haze came into his vision. His blood was pounding in his ears and he trembled with fury… He jumped to his feet, despair and fury propelling him. "You don't even care?" he shouted in disbelief. "You – you – devil!"

"Take him away," Thor said harshly. "How dare you interrupt this meeting with such rubbish. Get out of my sight."

Two of the guards steered Zanen backwards. He stared at his father, the Emperor, horrified.

"You – you –" he spluttered.

"Begone."

Some themes are adopted from anime the Geass. I do not own parts of that storyline and don't mean to claim them as such.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Zanen's character is pretty pretentious and melodramatic around this age. He'll grow out of it don't worry lol.**

"Do not surrender your wand!"

"Yes, we must fight."

"But fight to what extent?"

"Who cares? We just need to fight this!"

A heavy, overcast day loomed over the square in Diagon Alley. It was full of witches and wizards of all types. The shopkeepers had even come out to protest. A nervous-looking Ministry spokesperson stood on the steps of Gringotts bank before a podium.

"How did the Ministry allow us to get leaked out?" demanded a witch dressed in emerald green.

"The military of the Americana Empire had been researching their people for years," said the spokesman as calmly as he could. His hand shook as he wiped away the sweat on his hairline. "After the Americana mainland had been taken over, there was no way in hiding for the rest of the world."

"Oh, that is just ridiculous!" cried a pompous round-faced man, Ernie Macmillan. "The Muggles cannot possibly break through us with our defensive and undetectable charms. They have worked for centuries."

"As I have told you, the Muggles have created an invention that can deplete magic," sighed the man, who was named Nicholas Fratter. "It is a highly advanced system."

"Maybe You-Know-Who had the right idea all along," said a tearful woman.

An uproar greeted her words.

"You think killing Muggle-borns would have stopped this?"

"Now this is the sort of thing that will bring us down…"

"Don't say that like Harry Potter did us a bad deed!"

One man stood by the side of the crowd, leaning against the shabby wall of his ancient store. Mr. Ollivander watched the goings-on sadly. His silvery eyes looked up at the gray sky. War was not the answer, yet the wizards seemed to be surrendering too easily…

The bell on his front door tinkled and a small woman with long flowing blonde hair and enormous silver eyes of her own drifted over to his side. "They are inside waiting for you, Mr. Ollivander."

Mr. Ollivander turned his pale face towards her. Even in the situation he smiled. "You brilliant child…I now know I was right in entrusting you."

Luna Lovegood beamed in thanks and then gestured for him to follow. They retreated into the store. It was dusty and greeted them with the familiar tingling sensation. Luna quietly led the way behind the counter, down a corridor and into a dimly lit side room lined with books and wands and record books.

Around the table sat the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron, George and Bill Weasley, and Draco Malfoy. Mr. Ollivander and Luna took their seats.

"Have you come up with a plan?" the elderly man asked.

Kingsley bowed his shiny bald head. "We have," he said in his deep voice. "However, it is critical that we can be certain that Ms Lovegood does indeed know the ancient practice

of creating wands and of defending them."

"She does, and very well at that," said Mr. Ollivander quietly. "I knew when she came to be my apprentice many years ago that she had unique potential."

"Good," said Harry. He looked exhausted and aged beyond his years. "The plan in its most basic form goes as such. George Weasley here distributes all witches and wizards with single-spell joke wands. The magic in these is just enough for the Muggle machines to detect and these are the wands the Muggles will take away. Hopefully individuals will therefore be able to hold onto their real wands."

"As for the wands that remain here," began Hermione, "they must be hidden. Diagon Alley will be obliterated. This is where Draco Malfoy comes in. Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat. (Some things never changed; Harry and Ron exchanged exasperated glances.)

"Several years ago I purchased a mountain in Scotland," Draco announced imperiously. "It was said to be a mountain that holds ancient defensive magic pertaining to wandlore."

"I have researched it and it is legitimate," Hermione cut in quickly.

Draco grunted in impatience. He continued, "The real wands will be transferred over there, where Luna Lovegood will be their guardian."

Now Ron spoke up. "My squad of Aurors will oversee that the wands get there and they will be permanently stationed for the protection of Luna and the wands."

"That is the only security?" Kingsley asked seriously.

"No," said Bill. "I have arranged with Gringotts and my brother Charlie that two of the security dragons being deported from Gringotts will be intercepted. Charlie will bring them to the mountain."

"And Mr Potter is training his Aurors in Muggle combat," Kingsley surmised. "How is that going?"

"Thankfully it is going well," Harry replied as he repressed a yawn. "I have trained them with pistols, machine guns and basic self defense. They have really made great improvement."

"Wonderful," Kingsley sighed. He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. "Ms Lovegood, do you know the ancient enchantment that will guard the wands?"

"I know everything I have to know and more, Mr. Kingsley," Luna sang dreamily.

"Hmm," said Hermione, "where does Mr. Ollivander go?"

The old man sighed and gazed up at the ceiling. "It hardly matters. I would most like to go with Luna and the wands."

"That would be ideal," said Ron casually.

"Very well," Kingsley announced, "this project is classified as top secret and will take place tomorrow. We must all remember: they may take our wands and they may take our people, but they will never take our pride."

Zanen Ubel sat tensely in the back seat of the taxi. He kept his head down and stared at his lap. Here he was now in London, ordered to be exiled to the disputed land of Wicked Isle and be watched over by the Washington Aristocratic family. The cab driver sent shifty looks in his mirror, wondering to himself who this impeccably dressed and high mannered boy could be.

"Driver."

Zanen did not raise his gaze from his lap.

The driver hastily cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Are you going to ask questions about me or not?" The boy's tone was light yet it sent shivers down the driver's spine.

"No, no, laddie," he said cheerfully. "I don't ask nothin' from the people I drive. I'm just thinkin' to myself how far Godric's Hollow is from London. Nobody could pick you up?"

A cold feeling of loneliness pierced Zanen. He raised his head and looked out the window at the gray day. "I had thought so, but apparently not."

Helplessly interested in this boy, the cab driver continued to make conversation. He shifted gears. "So you're Americana, I see. What state are you from?"

"I lived in the capital city," replied Zanen. He wondered how much inane conversation he would have to take. "However, now I am going to live in England with the Washington family."

The driver frowned unseeingly at the traffic in front of him. Washington…. "Hey isn't that a noble family? I've heard of Lord Washington."

"They are indeed nobility," Zanen affirmed, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

He remembered the Washingtons very well from a Christmas party a year before last. They were Americana aristocrats married into British nobility and as snobby as a unification of these could be. Their daughter Rachel Washington was not so terrible, he admitted to himself. He did not have much faith in her though. All nobles were the same.

Except for Mother. Zanen raised a shaking hand and rested his face upon it, shielding his pain. It had only been a week since the incident. He had not slept for days and had eaten virtually nothing. How could he? He didn't deserve to be healthy and happy while he let Lady Amira's murderer get away. There was not much he could do about discovering the killer's motive let alone identity. His initial suspicions had been the ever jealous Empress who in his opinion had set up a clear weak point for Lady Amira. Yet he surmised that Empress Jania had always hated him as well, so why hadn't he been killed? That was just it, why hadn't he been killed?

The cab driver scratched his ruddy, stubble-ridden face and his watery eyes surveyed the child in the mirror again. The kid looked so miserable and distant, yet a strange powerful aura surrounded him. Who was this kid?

This is getting irritating, Zanen thought to himself. I could use him, though, a stronger voice chimed in his head.

"Driver," he said again. His tone was firm and decisive. "How much longer is it until we get there?"

"With the rate of this traffic, two hours, kiddo," the cab driver said gruffly.

"I see." What slow progress. He glanced out at the traffic outside. "Say, what was your name, driver?"

"Eh?" he grunted. Passengers almost never asked drivers their names. "My name is Eric Peters, little sir. Why?"

"Well, Mr. Peters, my name is Zanen Ubel de Americana," he told the man coolly.

Eric nearly crashed into the car in front of them. "Th- the prince?" he gasped. Unable to contain himself he swiveled around and faced the boy properly.

Zanen's mouth stretched into a small smile. "I suggest you watch the road, Mr. Peters," was all he said.

"But then," Eric choked, facing forward again, "aren't you the son of the late and most beloved Lady Amira?"

"I see you watch the news." _How impudent of this man. Eh, just keep going with your plan._ "So you were a fan of Lady Amira?"

"Who wasn't?" Eric rang. "She didn't have political power, but the speeches she made on world peace and happiness was a beautiful fresh air from that government."

_Hmm, so this is a commoner who desires peace and happiness._ He now raised his head and made eye contact with the wide pale eyes in the mirror. His startling irises were like a punch in the stomach for Eric and he looked away.

"Mr. Peters, will you carry out orders I give you?" Zanen asked.

"Ord-orders?" Eric stuttered.

"Britain is under Americana subjugation, is it not?" Zanen said quietly, staring at the driver unfalteringly. "Do your duty to the prince, or if not to him then to the son of poor Lady Amira."

Eric's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. "Er- I…sorry, how do I know you're telling the truth, kid?"

"True, the public doesn't know our appearances," Zanen sighed. "It must be suspicious considering no royal arrangement was made to take me to Godric's Hollow. Not even a limousine! To be honest, Eric, I have no interest in the trappings of nobility. For a while I will live as an Americana commoner and want to do away with the luxuries."

Eric shivered from mingled excitement and shock. He certainly sounded like the daughter of Lady Amira. He was humble for someone of royalty. Yet he still had a chilling confidence.

"Fine," he managed, "I'll do whatever you want, Prince."

"Good. Do you mind if I sit in the passenger seat?"

"Eh?" Eric yelped. "Are – are you sure?"

"You'll learn in time that I tend to give indirect orders," Zanen laughed. He stood up and clambered into the front seat of the Mercedes-Benz. Eric actually smiled to himself. "Eric, adjust the mirrors to my view."

"Prince!" Eric cried. "Look, I know I'm supposed to do whatever you want, but shouldn't

I make sure you're safe first? Shouldn't I?"

_So his true nature is to protect. That will be useful._

Zanen raised a hand lazily. "This car has a five point eight liter V8 engine complete with supercharger that rotates at a range of fifty five. Torque capacity is seven hundred ninety

six. Acceleration is four point seven seconds to a hundred kilometers."

"Prince!" Eric exclaimed, stunned. "Are – aren't you twelve or something?"

"Adjust the mirrors," Zanen said again.

Eric fumbled with the knobs. Zanen let him know when each mirror was at precise angling.

"Remember to do as I say," Zanen told him. Eric was alarmed to see the seriousness and focus now present on the prince's face. The kid appeared to be staring the road down, sizing up the abilities of his opponent.

"Accelerate five miles an hour within two point three seconds and go into the lane to our right," Zanen commanded.

Eric figured there was nothing for it. He executed perfectly and slipped into the other lane.

"Now stabilize speed," Zanen said clearly. He glared in the mirrors. "At this rate of trajectory the car will not be able to maneuver to the right," he hissed, thinking out loud. "That car there is losing momentum. Eric," he raised his voice, "Accelerate another five miles an hour and in one point nine seconds go in front of the car to our left."

"But in front of -"

"Now!" Zanen demanded. Eric held his breath and did as he was told. They were already traveling at a faster rate. Zanen laughed triumphantly. "Just like a game."

"We cut down the travel time by forty minutes," Eric said in disbelief.

"Forty six minutes to be precise," Zanen informed him quietly.

"You did make that one mistake, though," Eric said animatedly. He was impressed and Zanen had succeeded in gaining his loyalty and respect. "Perhaps you rushed into it?"

"I didn't rush," Zanen said darkly, "I didn't take into account human will. These aren't mere mindless pieces anymore. The other drivers make decisions that have nothing to do with your own actions. That's why when you create a situation you can anticipate what those around you will do about it. Random actions are harder to decipher."

"Hey, how old are you, prince?" Eric questioned. "It sounds like you went to MIT or something."

He cleared his throat and frowned as Zanen surveyed him with his trademark serious gaze of post puzzle solving. "I turned twelve last week. Now." He ignored the splutters coming from Eric and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "We're now in Godric's Hollow. Bring me to the address of 2235 Griffin Lane please."

"Ah, Griffin is a fancy street," Eric sang.

They drove through the town of Godric's Hollow, a quaint little village. They passed the cottages and turned down a wide street. From the first house they knew the real estate had changed. Five minutes later Eric slowed and entered a circular driveway preceding a large tan colored house. It was not as ostentatious as Zanen had expected. In fact, compared to the perfect posh lawns of the surrounding homes it was rather scrubby. Ivy snaked over most of the front, a willow tree drooped by the left side of the door and on the other side, what would have been a garden was filled with unpleasant shrubs and wild bushes.

The black Mercedes slithered to a halt on the gravel.

"Eric," Zanen said as the driver turned the car off, "I cannot let you go now that you know who I am. I am here secretly, understand? Therefore I order you to become my assistant."

"Prince," Eric started in a choked voice, "I have a daughter."

"I will pay you," Zanen said. "I'm sorry to be persistent, but I must do this. You must do this. You are hereby bound to me."

With that he exited the car. Eric followed hastily. How had he gotten himself in this situation?

"I'll gather my things later," Zanen said as Eric headed for the trunk. "Let's meet them for now."

"Yes, Prince."

Zanen turned to him. "Call me Zanen."

Eric nodded. The two of them walked up the sweeping flagged stone steps. The heavy wooden door was outlined by a graceful Roman-style arch. Eric reached for the brass lion door knocker and dropped it three times. There was a distant voice from inside and another one responded to it. Moments later there was a click of the latch being drawn and the door opened. A tall brown haired boy, dressed ordinarily, stood before them.

"Hello, I'm Zanen Ubel," he said, bowing his head a little. "Tell Lady Washington I have arrived."

The boy, who appeared to be thirteen or fourteen, looked at Zanen as though the latter was some kind of vagabond. "Er, who are you?"

"James," called a woman's voice. She came into view and happened to be rather beautiful with long red hair. She joined the boy and looked at Zanen and Eric.

"Is this the Washington Manor?" Zanen asked, taken aback.

"No, this is the Potter house," the woman informed them. "I am Ginny Potter and this is my son James. The Washingtons are our neighbors. They recently left for their residence in London."

Zanen felt the floor fly from under his feet. This wasn't good not to mention fair. He withdrew the piece of paper. "I was given this address to get to Lord Washington." He showed the woman named Ginny.

"This is our address," Ginny told him. "The Washingtons are 2237. I'm afraid someone got the numbers wrong."

"Damn Marquis," Zanen hissed angrily. He crumpled the paper in his hand, furious.

"What do we do now, Pr- Zanen?" Eric asked, nervous. Would they have to drive back to London?

"We're not going back to London," Zanen said firmly. He stared at the paper crushed in his fist, thinking fast.

"What did you say your name was?" Ginny Potter asked kindly.

"Zanen Ubel," he repeated. He ignored James's snigger and looked directly into the warm brown eyes of this woman. He read them and saw suppressed surprise. Finally, some recognition, he thought.

"Please feel free to stay in our house until the Washingtons return," Ginny offered. She turned to her son. "Help them with their things and bring them to the guest bedroom."

"Really?" grunted James. "Are they even -?"

"Do it, James," Ginny said sharply.

"Eric can get my things," Zanen said with a lazy wave of his hand. James gave him a look. They waited as Eric got the Prince's luggage from the car. He staggered with it slightly. James watched the lack of magic and understood what these people were: stuck up Muggles. He wondered what his mother was doing inviting them to stay.

Zanen followed the boy James into the house. He had never set foot in one like it before. To start, the floor was covered in an earth toned tile and instead of electric lights fire torches lined the walls. The entrance was open and painted a warm golden cream color. To their immediate left and right there were graceful wide arches leading to two other rooms. As they continued to walk through the entrance hall the space opened into a circular shape. Smaller arch doorways led to other rooms. In the center there was a spiral staircase made of iron.

Zanen tried to keep his composure as he stared around, but for once it was a struggle for him. A tingling feeling went up his arms and the hairs on his neck stood up. James led

them up the stairs which emitted an echoing clang at every footfall.

They reached the landing. The hole in the floor that was cut out for the stairs was lined with an iron railing. Everything was in close quarters as opposed to the spacious first floor. Closed doors surrounded them from each of the four walls.

A nearby door opened and a boy stuck his head out.

"Who was at the door?" he asked.

"This kid," James said, jabbing his thumb toward Zanen. He looked at the boy who stepped out of the room fully. He seemed to be right around Zanen's own age. He immediately felt a strange affinity for this boy. Perhaps it was because they looked alike; the boy had black hair and startling bright green eyes behind glasses.

"Hi," the boy said brightly, "my name's Albus but call me Al. What is yours?"

"My name is Zanen," he smiled.

"Cool name," Al said eagerly. "Hmm, I never saw you at Hogwarts."

"That's because he's not…" James raised his eyebrows. Al arched a single brow back at his brother.

"Know what," said Al, "I'll take over from here. James here isn't the best at manners. I'll show you to your room."

"Cool," said James, relieved. He shot off down the hall and disappeared into a room without further ado.

"What's up with him?" Eric asked.

"Ah, I think he misses his girlfriend," Al smirked, "he can't see her anymore because our school was – ah…" he stopped abruptly. He seemed to choose his words carefully and finished, "let out on a long holiday."

There was something shifty and strange about this family, Zanen knew it. He hid his suspicion as he fell into step beside Al. He was several inches taller than the latter.

"So you don't sound like you're from England," Al chatted on. "Sorry for James putting

you on the spot like that, he meant that you're not British like us. You're from the Americana mainland, aren't you?"

"Yes, you're right," Zanen affirmed with a nod. He glanced at the portraits on the wood paneled wall. He stopped dead and Eric bumped into him.

"Prince," Eric muttered.

"What's the matter?" Al asked quickly.

Zanen squinted suspiciously at the picture of a teenage boy with large brown eyes and a mischievous grin. He could have sworn he had made a movement. Stop being crazy, he thought angrily. He cleared his throat and held his head up higher. "Nothing, I'm just a little jumpy in new places."

"You must be exhausted, Zanen," said Eric. To Al he said, "He just arrived here today. Are you hungry, Zanen?"

"I don't need sleep or food," Zanen shrugged.

"Well, that's a bit stupid," Al stated baldly. Zanen threw an annoyed look at him. He felt like a brother already. "You know it's considered rude in this country if you refuse what's offered to you."

"Don't worry about me," Zanen said in a hollow voice. "Are we near my room yet?"

"Yep," Al grinned. He opened the door for them and led the way inside. The room was simple and had two full sized four-poster beds, a sagging couch beneath a large window, and a wardrobe in the corner. "The bathroom is on the other side of the hall. Dad likes to keep us humble by making us kids share a bathroom."

"You have more siblings?" Zanen asked, curious. "Eric, put my things near the wardrobe."

"One more sister, Lily," said Al. "Why, do you have siblings?"

"I have seven half siblings," Zanen said grimly.

"Merlin," Al shook his head. "Family, what can you do, eh? Well, get yourself settled in. If you need me just stop by my room. Dinner is at six o'clock, you really should join us so you can meet Dad and Lily."

"Thank you," Zanen said with an imperious nod. Al gave a quick smile and retreated, closing the door behind him with a snap.

Zanen let out a deep breath.

"Well, he seems better than that other lad," Eric said encouragingly.

"There's something strange about these people," Zanen mused. "That James boy doesn't recognize my name. I'm known over here, right?"

"Not particularly, but everybody knows the name Ubel," said Eric thoughtfully. He hesitated. "Er, Prince…am I bound to be your servant type person from now on?"

"Don't look at it as servitude," Zanen said languidly. "Consider yourself my Knight. After all, I owe you rewards and protection too. We protect each other."

"Well, thanks, but I myself don't need protecting," Eric mumbled, looking down at his feet. "I have one single request of you, Prince Zanen de Americana."

Zanen thought he knew what was coming. He watched Eric sink to one knee. "If something ever happens to me," Eric whispered, "please protect my daughter Chantra. I am all she has. Please protect my Chantra…."

Zanen watched the man kneeling before him. Here was a father who actually loved his offspring. The young prince closed his eyes, fighting back sudden tears. "I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe. I promise with all my heart." The silence stretched as Zanen held everything in. Several minutes later he took in a deep, calming breath. When he spoke his voice was steady. "Please get up. I regard you as my equal."

Eric raised his face and stood up. He gave a strained smile. "Say, can I fetch Chantra and come back here? I can't leave her for the night."

"Do as you wish," Zanen whispered, his throat constricted. "Get your daughter."

Eric made an uncertain bow and hurried out of the room. To distract himself from his emotions, Zanen looked around the room for some entertainment. There was a wooden bookshelf in the corner. He approached it. The top shelf was lined with plaques. He wiped his eyes dry impatiently and peered up at one of them.

_On this day of April the first, Nineteen ninety seven, Harry James Potter has successfully been selected to head the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic. _

_Approved by Head of Wizengamot Filius Flitwick, Head of Magical Law Enforcement Hermione Granger, Head of International Business Law & Relations Cho Chang and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt _

Zanen stared at the award, rereading it several times. There was no denying it. His heart began to race very fast indeed.

"Wickeds," he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

He had been plain stupid to give out his identity so eagerly. Zanen groaned and flopped backwards onto one of the beds, hands pressed over his face. These people could perform magic. They were an important family if they were involved in the "ministry of magic" but could not be too dangerous if they lived next door to non-magical aristocrats. How much power did this Potter family have? Did the Wickeds have kings and royal families? It was a matter of time before his father captured them.

Why did he, Zanen, end up here? Was it a coincidence?

Mother would have said it was simply fate, he knew that. Zanen was not sure whether he believed in things such as fate and destiny or not. It was hard to imagine that he was "meant" to run into this family by some sort of divine intervention.

He gathered it was too late for him to change much now that they knew who he was. That Ginny woman had recognized him. Could he break into the Washingtons' house and hide out there with Eric? No, that would be a feeble plan. Perhaps he could move to Eric's house for the time being.

Zanen glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten minutes to six. He had been sitting and thinking for nearly three hours, filtering through his shock as the room grew darker around him. He yawned and stretched and got to his feet. Even if they were Wickeds he doubted they would poison him at their dinner table. He quietly slipped out of the guest bedroom. The second floor hallway was deserted. He hurried over to the stairs and sped down them.

It took Zanen a few minutes to find the correct archway that led to the dining room. Zanen found himself in a dark purple room complete with an extremely long wooden table that had a lot of burns and scrapes and character. The kitchen had to be nearby. He jumped a little as he heard a voice in the next room.

"Zanen Ubel?" A man's voice said. "A prince of Americana? So you took this enemy

Muggle prince into our house, Ginny? He could very well be a spy."

"Honestly, Harry, do you think they would send a child to spy on you?" Ginny snapped. "I don't think he will cause us harm."

"I should talk to Kingsley about this," the man named Harry said. "There's more than just our safety at stake here. I don't know about the political ramifications it might cause."

"Maybe," Ginny said with a touch of desperation in her voice, "this boy is the key to freedom, Harry. He is Zanen, he is not the son of the Empress."

"Yes, Lady Amira was killed last week," Harry's voice said slowly. "We have intelligence on that. We thought that perhaps there was instability within the royal family. I cannot think why her son would be sent over to England, though. I find it suspicious."

"Oh, everything is suspicious nowadays," Ginny said angrily. Zanen listened, his mouth dry. The sound of a sizzling frying pan reached his ears. A mouthwatering smell made his empty stomach rumble.

"Um, hi?" squeaked a little voice behind him.

Zanen jumped and whirled around. A young girl with mahogany red hair, freckles and enormous brown eyes stared up at him.

"Hello," he grinned nervously. "I'm Zanen, I'm visiting here. Are you Lily?"

"Yes," Lily frowned.

There were footsteps and Zanen turned. A tall man stood before him. He had black hair like Al's and the same bright green eyes. He wore long black robes that went to his ankles and several badges were pinned to his chest. Zanen glanced at them but stood his ground without betraying any nerves. The man was not physically striking in the way Thor was, but Zanen respected him immediately.

"Zanen Ubel de Americana," Harry began, with a little bow, "welcome to my home. I am Harry Potter. Although we may have different blood, different abilities and different points of view, you are welcome to stay in my house."

"Ew, Dad, did you just bow to Zanen?" said a harsh voice and James rounded the corner.

"As you can see, wizards have no perception of class or royalty," Harry said to Zanen apologetically.

"What're you talking about, Dad?" James questioned sharply. "Will someone tell me who this mysterious kid is?"

"I am Zanen Ubel de Americana, successor to the sixteenth Emperor," Zanen snarled, sick of being disrespected. He felt satisfaction at the thunderstruck expression slapped on James's face.

"A Muggle prince?" Lily trilled. Her face turned bright pink.

Zanen spoke to Harry Potter now. "I apologize for barging into your house like this. Honestly, I have nothing to do with politics and the only reason I am in this country is because my mother passed away. I have to say I'm fascinated by this whole situation. I haven't had any exposure to Wickeds."

"What did you call us?" James roared.

Zanen gave him a patronizing look. "Don't look at me like that," James spat. "It's because of you that Hogwarts is closed and we have to hand over our wands!"

"James," Harry reprimanded quietly. "Zanen himself has no influence over that. However, Zanen, I must insist that you refer to us as wizards. That is what we are. 'Wickeds' is an insulting term to us."

"Fair enough," Zanen nodded. "Sorry, that's what I was told to refer to you by. I won't use it again."

At that moment Al appeared. "Dinner ready yet?" he said with a yawn. "I could eat a hippogriff."

"Yes," Ginny's voice floated out from the kitchen. Zanen blinked as a large pot of stew, salad, bread, and drinks floated suspended in midair and landed gently on the long table. A set of plates and utensils followed them. Ginny brought up the rear. She waved a stick of wood and the plates zoomed over to their places.

"Wait a minute," cried Al, "isn't Zanen a Muggle?"

"A what?" Zanen said sharply.

"A Muggle is what we call a person without magical powers," said Ginny. "The Statute of Secrecy has been lifted now that we have been exposed, Al. He knows what we are."

"To be honest I didn't know at all when I arrived," Zanen said slowly. The family took their seats and watched him sit between Lily and Al. "I've never seen magic, I just know that it exists. I hadn't given it much thought but I imagined levitation would be something wizards are capable of, but it's surprising how much it actually defies physics. An object propelling itself at the same rate of slope and slant should be impossible…"

"You'll get used to it," said Al brightly. "Beef stew, Zanen?"

Zanen accepted it with thanks.

"Where is the man that was with you earlier?" Ginny asked.

"He went to check on his daughter." Zanen picked at his food. He was just struck by the thought that this was the first family he had sat a dinner with other than his own. He stared into the wonderful looking stew. So this was what it was like to eat as a regular family. The fact that they were wizards didn't bother him much; over all they were quite normal. He wondered why Thor even bothered disturbing these people.

"Is something wrong, Zanen?" He heard Harry's voice from a distance away.

"Forgive me," Zanen said quietly, allowing his hair to partly obscure his face.

"Eat, you'll feel better," Al assured him, pushing potatoes and salad down the table. "I know you said you didn't need food but you should eat up, mate. Think of all the poor witches and wizards on the run without many rations at all."

"He needs a firewhiskey, that's all," said James through a mouthful of meat.

Lily reached out and touched Zanen on the shoulder. He looked up sharply and jerked away reflexively. Her eyes widened and she stared up into his face. No one generally came into this close contact with Zanen. Who would have thought a commoner witch would be the first to smile so kindly at him?

"Prince," she began in a sweet voice, "I can see you're the kind of person who has been through a lot but can't say much about it."

"Oh?" said Zanen before he could stop himself. "How do you guess that?"

"Well, you're not eating," she sang quite happily. "And I can just tell. Really, Prince, you should eat. Please?"

Zanen felt the first rush of warmth in what had seemed like a lifetime. He looked into her shining brown eyes. Why did he feel much stronger? He fought back a smile. A blush grew steadily in Lily's cheeks. She reminded him of another princess, Juliana Ubel, the daughter of Lady Charlotte and the only sibling Zanen was close to.

"Okay, Miss Lily," he relented. He picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of beef. Forcing thoughts of guilt aside, he shoved it in his mouth. Rich flavor reached his taste buds and flooded through his brain, obliterating his other senses. He took several more forkfuls without even realizing it. Lily, Al and James cheered; Harry laughed and exchanged an appreciative look with his wife.

"Merlin, when was the last time you ate?" James laughed at the ravenous lad whose regal bearings had fallen away completely.

"That's what you look like every time you eat a meal," Al smirked at his brother.

Zanen chugged some type of refreshing orange liquid. "March thirty-first on my birthday," he gasped, and continued to eat. It took him a few minutes for his mind to leave the joy of filling his stomach and to notice the whole family staring at him. Harry and Ginny appeared concerned.

"That was a week ago," Lily whimpered. "Wasn't it, Al?"

"Are you sure you're a prince?" James drawled, squinting at Zanen.

Anger shot up through him. He sat up straight, hands clenched upon the tabletop. The three kids drew away from his flashing eyes. "Lower your eyes, people!" Zanen demanded. "How dare you regard me with judgment and pity? I do not need pity from you. I would rather you capture me and kill me. You are the subjects of His Majesty and -!" He broke off abruptly. The room continued to ring from the vibrations of his voice.

The Potters were silent. Ginny opened her mouth but Harry raised his hand to stop her.

Zanen nearly fell sideways off his chair from the shock that hit him. He had talked himself straight into the answers to this bewildering situation. His eyes swept around the room blindly. His mind was whirring almost beyond his control. That had been the plan all along. He _was_ meant to arrive here. He stood up and left the table and walked away from the family.

He was being used as bait, as a political tool. It all came clear to him in a brilliant, terrible moment. The address of the Potters had not been given to him by accident. Zanen had been sent to them to test if this high powered wizard family would hold him hostage. If they did, he thought furiously, they would have fallen for Thor's trap. Thor would then have used it as an excuse to declare England's wizards the enemy of Americana and begin war.

That is why they killed mother, he realized. He began to feel sick and reached out to the wall for support. She would have naturally opposed this plan. The creators of this sent Zanen over not only as a guinea pig, but as a trick and a scam.

"Damn it!" he roared, and slammed his free fist into the wall. He ignored the sounds of the Potters hastily vacating the room. He dropped to his knees and held his head in despair. "It's all my fault," he moaned, shivering. "They used me…and so they killed you…mother…."

He sensed a body behind him. He didn't care. Tears swam before his vision. "Jania, you planned this," he hissed.

"Zanen," Harry said gently.

Zanen remained kneeling before the wall with his head bowed. "What?" he growled.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Harry sighed. He sank to one knee close behind the visibly shaking child. "I lost my parents at a young age and many friends thereafter. Those we love are never truly gone from us, Prince Zanen. Magical or not, humans feel the same towards family and enemies and have the same vices of power and greed."

Zanen screwed up his face in a pained grimace. He found himself holding back tears yet again. He had been abandoned by the entire Americana Empire in its lust to destroy people like the Potters. Zanen balled his hands into fists and stood up straight. He did not look at Harry. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, staring fixedly at the wall. "Please excuse me."

He was in a blind haze his entire walk back to his room. All he knew now was that he had to take action. The board was officially set. Thor had arranged everything so the wizards were the white pieces on the chess board and he could determine what to do after their first decisive action. But what could he, Zanen, do?

Zanen slipped into his room. The lights automatically illuminated. He locked the door behind him. His restless eyes landed upon his luggage in front of the wardrobe. He crossed the room and attacked his largest suitcase. Ripping it open, he threw his clothes over his shoulder and piled his books up next to him unceremoniously.

He lifted up what appeared to be the bottom of the case; it was really a secret compartment. Zanen glared at the radio device, dagger and pistol before him. He had secured these by breaking into Robert's office mere hours after the man and Lady Amira had been killed. He had to defend himself no matter what. At this point, if anything happened to him, the Potters would be blamed.

A knock sounded from the door. A familiar voice said, "I'm back, Zanen."

Zanen took a deep breath. He closed the case slowly. He got to his feet, stepped over his sprawling possessions and unlocked the door. He opened it. There stood Eric, a large rucksack on his back and a small girl hanging onto his hand. She had to have been around six or seven and her appearance was surprising. She had high cheek bones, slightly tanned skin, dark eyes and shoulder-length black hair.

"Prince," said Eric, "this is my daughter Chantra." He put his hand to her back and she stepped forward. "Say hello to Zanen, dear."

Zanen managed to heave a smile onto his face. "It's nice to meet you, Chantra." He looked up at Eric. "You missed dinner."

"Oh, we ate already," Chantra said, smiling. She paused and let out an enormous yawn.

"Alright," Eric puffed with gusto, "time for bed, kiddo."

Zanen retreated to the leather sofa while Eric got the little girl ready for bed. Zanen stared at an open book on his lap, trying his best not to listen to Eric reading a bed time story for Chantra. Lady Amira had read to Zanen for years in both Arabic and Dutch. Those were the only languages Amira spoke to Zanen; he initially spoke them better than English when he started to talk. It had been an entire week for Zanen living only in English. This made him feel further separated from his mother.

Half an hour later Eric's voice fell away and the room was filled with Chantra's calm breathing. Eric kissed the top of her head and tucked the covers around her. He then joined Zanen at the sofa.

"She's comfortable at being in new places," Zanen remarked quietly.

"We've had to move several times during her life," Eric explained in just above a whisper. He inhaled deeply and his face became strained. "She's comfortable anywhere I am. Her- her mother passed away four years ago from lung disease. She was a Cambodian refugee and died from chemical exposure that built up in her system from when her village was attacked. Because she was pregnant with Chantra during this, Chantra has a heart disease and blood deficiency."

Zanen knew Eric felt a desperate need to say these things, but that knowledge couldn't stop the added weight this story brought to his heart. Here was another child who had lost a parent. A surge of mixed pity and understanding towards Eric seemed to fill his stomach.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he whispered.

"Well, you…" Eric broke off. "Prince Zanen, is that book in Arabic?"

Zanen shook himself out of his reverie. He glanced at Eric and back at the book. "Yes, and yes, I can read it."

"Incredible," Eric breathed. "How many languages do you speak?"

Relieved to be changing the conversation, Zanen seized upon the subject. "My mother taught me Arabic and Dutch. She actually never spoke English to me and didn't allow me to speak back in English. Meanwhile, all the children of the royal family get to choose to study any of the Romance languages for our tutoring; I chose French and demanded to learn German as well."

Eric seemed stunned into silence. "Why French and German, Prince?" he asked, clearly interested.

Zanen sighed and looked up from the book. "The Americana Empire has taken over all countries that speak Spanish, Portuguese and Italian. Their main language has been established as English now. My siblings all chose Spanish, as many peoples on our continent still speak that. France and Germany remain to be the only European countries to achieve independence and keep their identity. When I become King, I want to keep it that way."

"I had no idea Lady Amira was Middle Eastern," Eric stated in awe. "How did the combination of Arabic and Dutch happen?"

It took Zanen a couple moments to recall the story. "A clan from Iran that apparently descends from Babylonian kings was overthrown by the current government of the country." He paused and cracked his knuckles, lost in memories of conversations with his mother. "This clan was the first Muslim group to settle in the Netherlands. While the main leaders of the country were focused on colonizing Africa my grandmother Fathiyah Ghusun Midhaf, the daughter of the leader of the clan, married the Duke of Holland, Christopher van Zanen."

"Van Zanen?" Eric repeated. His eyes widened in confusion.

Zanen had not thought of this story for years. He had never told anyone about it before, not even the brothers and sisters he grew up with. "My mother named me Zanen so I would never forget the remarkable acceptance the van Zanens had," he whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "Van Zanen and Fathiyah had four children; Louis, Denis, Amira and Asila. The other three married into important French and German families, apparently."

"Prince Zanen," Eric gasped, his voice shaking in reverence, "You are connected to royalty no matter where you follow your family line."

Zanen sighed and blinked rapidly as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Why did talking about this make him so emotional? He cleared his throat again. "I know, and that is the sole reason why I am Crown Prince. I am one of the younger princes, but I was chosen because of my lineage."

All of a sudden, the sound of a terribly angry voice filled the second floor hallway.

"Don't touch him, Zabini!" Harry thundered. Across the room, Chantra sat bolt upright in the bed.

"Get out of my way, Potter," said a deep voice laced with malice. Zanen dived over to his suitcase, plunged his arm in and drew the pistol, breathing hard. Eric ran over to Chantra and dragged her out of the bed.

"I said don't touch him!"

"Potter!" the evil-sounding voice shouted, "Your glory days are over! Public sentiment has turned against you. You, the Aurors, and the Ministry have been too easy on these damn Muggles! You are a Muggle-loving fool who refuses to kill them when you have the chance."

"What authority do you have, Blaise?" shrieked a woman's voice, Ginny's.

"I am senior secretary to the Minister, you blood traitor from hell," Zabini snarled. "Anyhow, legal authority doesn't matter anymore. This is what the people would want."

With shaking hands, Zanen raised his pistol and pointed it at the closed door. He heard Eric gasp but didn't spare him a glance. His heart was racing. They were going to try to kill him.

"Now get out of my way!" There was a bang and a scream. The door burst open and a tall man with dark features and a thin black mustache entered the room. He spotted Zanen crouching behind his luggage immediately and seemed blind to all else. He raised a thin strip of wood and pointed at the Prince. The man laughed cruelly. "Are you going to shoot me, Muggle?"

Zanen's hands holding the gun trembled. His mind was petrified by fear. He didn't know what to think or do.

"We'll proclaim your death to the world," Zabini hissed with vindictive pleasure. "Emperor Ubel won't know what hit him."

A mental image of Amira flashed before Zanen's eyes. He suddenly found his voice. "Don't do this," he cried, "or you're going to lose everything!"

Zabini slashed the stick of wood through the air. Something seemed to punch Zanen in the throat. He ignored it and tried to call out again. His stomach dropped when the words of warning did not come out. He gave it another attempt, which failed. What the hell had happened? How had he suddenly lost his ability to speak?

"This is your end, Prince Zanen," Zabini announced coldly.

"Your Highness!" Eric yelled from the shadows.

Zabini turned his weapon on him in a flash, but from behind Ginny cried, "Stupefy!" Red light illuminated his figure and he crumpled to the floor with a thud. Ginny ran into the room with Harry on her heels; the latter was bleeding profusely out of his shoulder.

"Finite incantatem," Ginny said as she waved her stick at Zanen. The pressure obstructing his larynx melted away.

"You cannot harm me," he told them urgently, his voice cracking from the panic. "It's what His Majesty wants. You must believe me. He will declare war if I am killed by Wickeds!"

"Put the gun down," Harry said. "We aren't going to kill you."

"The three of you stay in this room," Ginny said, pointing her stick at the windows on which bars materialized. "We will keep you safe."

Harry pointed his own stick at Zabini, who was lifted into the air like a limp puppet. Chantra began to cry loudly. She hugged Eric around the middle and he held her to him tensely. Harry, Ginny, and the creepy unconscious floating Zabini left the room.

"Wickeds," Eric moaned in terror. "This isn't good, Zabini. No wonder that man wanted to kill you. Isn't the Emperor taking over the Wickeds?"

Zanen couldn't reply. He finally lowered the gun but he was still shaking slightly. Before he or Eric could think of the next thing to say the sound of more shouting came from below them. They couldn't make out the words. There were several consecutive screams and a bang that shook the floor. Chantra wailed again. Eric lifted her securely into his arms and went to stand beside Zanen who got to his feet, bracing himself for anything unexpected. There was a single long, drawn-out cry of bone-chilling pain. Zanen dropped the pistol. There was another sound like an explosion and without warning Zanen felt the floor disappear from underneath him. All around him, Eric and Chantra, the floor erupted, the walls were blasted down and the ceiling above them rained plaster on their heads. Zanen was falling, falling, he heard Chantra bawling next to him…

His feet made contact with a hard surface; pain shot through his legs and they buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. He heard Eric land and topple next to him with a grunt.

He stared around wildly. They appeared to be in what had been the Potters' living room. It was unrecognizable. The shattered windows were still raining shards of glass over the torn furniture. Pages ripped out of books were fluttering to the ground. Everything was destroyed and covered in a thick layer of dust.

Zanen coughed. "H-Hello?"

He tried to stand. An unbearable protest in his ankle made him realize it was broken. He pushed himself into a crawling position. Next to him, Eric called out as well.

Within a few minutes the dust had cleared. Horrified, Zanen saw that furniture was not the only thing lying on the floor; he made out the bodies of four people lying motionless. There was a rustle. A figure was rising from behind the overturned couch. Zanen squinted through waves of pain.

"Al?" he whispered.

Albus Potter's visage came into view as he focused. Silent tears ran down his shocked face. A strip of wood was held loosely at his side. It slid out of his grip and clattered to the floor. Al followed it down as though in slow motion. He and Zanen stared directly into each others' eyes, frozen and breathless. Al's eyes rolled into his head and he dropped face down into the torn hearthrug.

"Al!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: Please bear with the loss of the Potters, but this story is for Al and Zanen's generation anyway.

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"The four of them are dead," Eric whispered.

Zanen was holding up Al's torso to himself, supporting the young wizard's head in the crook of his arm. Eric and his daughter were both crying and Zanen wept loudly and freely, his heart pouring out. Al was unconscious but Zanen almost didn't want to shake him awake. He couldn't let his first friend awaken and find his entire family dead around him. Zanen wept for Harry, the strong and calm man who had given him the first words of condolence. He wept for Ginny who had had faith in him and offered him a place to stay. He wept for James who had watched everything that made up his world fall apart. He wept for Lily, the sweetest and most genuinely kind person Zanen had ever met. He wept for Al's loss. And finally, he wept for his mother and himself.

Al stirred. Zanen hiccoughed and wiped his face on his sleeve hastily.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Al muttered, looking dazed.

Zanen continued to sob, utterly unable to speak. Al blinked rapidly and looked around. His eyes came to rest on the body of his little sister.

"N-no," he whimpered, turning pure white. "My f-family. My family…"

"Al," Zanen cried, "Oh, Al. I'm so sorry."

Al struggled out of Zanen's clutches. The latter hugged himself instead. A tortured expression of mingled anguish and determined resolve settled on Al's face. With a shuddering breath he processed the images around him. His eyes took in his brother James. He stumbled over to where he lay, hair rumpled and arms spread-eagle. More tears welled up in his eyes. He crouched down at James's side. Zanen watched him tenderly open James's tightly clenched fist. Two sticks were there. Al remained beside James for a long while. At last he gave a hearty sniff and put the two sticks in his pocket. He pushed himself to his feet.

He straightened his glasses and turned around to survey Zanen, Eric and Chantra. He swallowed. His lips and voice trembled as he said, "Let's leave."

Zanen hiccoughed again. He gazed at Al, worried. "Leave now?"

"We need to go," Al said to them weakly. "Zabini will be back here soon to finish you off, Zanen."

Zanen stared at him for a second, then shook himself and took a steadying breath. "I suppose you're right. Erm, where do you think we should go?"

"We should go to my Uncle's house," Al replied slowly. "He lives a few streets away."

Zanen watched Al bend down and touch his parents' faces, pure sorrow blazing on his own face. He came back to where Zanen sat and picked up the third stick he had dropped. Zanen was marveling at the strength Al was showing. Al looked down at Zanen and extended his hand. Again they made lengthy eye contact.

"We're all each other's got left now, by the looks of it," Al said quietly. "You're a prince, right?" Zanen nodded. "Well then, get up. We need to carry on."

Zanen reached out and grasped Al's hand. He allowed the wizard boy to lift him to a standing position. He shifted his weight onto his good leg and looked at Al, his eyes burning. "I promise you, Al Potter," he whispered passionately, "I will destroy Americana!"

Zanen, Albus, Eric and Chantra stood before the front door of a large house similar to the Potters'. Zanen was being supported by Eric despite the latter having a dislocated kneecap. Al punched the doorbell and hammered on the door. After a few minutes of waiting in the dark evening the door opened.

Zanen and Eric let out sounds of surprise and Chantra clapped a hand over her eyes. A tiny skinny creature with enormous ears and tennis ball eyes wearing a little navy uniform greeted them with a deep bow.

"What is that?" Zanen asked Al sharply.

"It's a house-elf," Al replied. He now spoke to the house-elf. "Esser, can we come in?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter, sir," said Esser in a high squeak. "Esser wants to know who comes with Mr. Potter tonight, sir?"

"This is my friend Zanen, his butler and his butler's daughter," Al said quickly. "Please, can we come in now?"

Esser stepped back and opened the door wider. Zanen and Eric limped into the house with Al and Chantra. The house was brightly lit and warm; friendly with rich solid wood floors. Footsteps echoed from nearby and a girl with curly red hair came running out of a back room.

"Al!" she screamed. She flew over to him and threw herself into Al's arms. Al hugged her back tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. "I can't believe it!" Zanen now saw that she was crying heavily. "I j-just heard the n-news. Not Harry and G-Ginny!" 

Al let out a funny noise like a cat being stepped on and squeezed the girl even tighter. "Rose," he said, his voice muffled in her shirt, "R-Rose, what am I going to do?"

"James and Lily, too!" she continued to cry. She seemed to be falling to pieces before them. "My baby Lily! What happened, Al? T-t-tell me w-what happened! There are M-Ministry w-wizards at your house n-now, Kin-Kingsley and them. Y-you sh-shouldn't have left, it's s-so dangerous!"

Al sighed. "I can't talk about it yet."

Rose drew away from him and nodded, patting him on the back. Al did the same to her. She looked at the strangers around her, face still shining with tears.

"This is Zanen," Al began heavily, "his butler Eric and Eric's daughter, Chantra. They were staying with us when it all happened. I think they're injured from the explosion."

Rose sniffed and hiccoughed, taking in Zanen in particular. He nodded at her. Even in her state of misery, he found her to be quite pretty. "W-what's wrong with you?" she asked him.

"My ankle is broken and Eric's knee is dislocated," Zanen said in a low voice.

"That's ea-easy enough," Rose choked. "Esser, heal them up please."

"Yes, Miss Rose," squeaked Esser the house elf. He pointed at Zanen's ankle; there was a crack that echoed through the entrance hall and the pain from the break vanished. Zanen tested his weight. To his astonishment his ankle was completely healed. The elf turned to Eric who was also repaired within seconds.

"This is incredible," Eric breathed.

"Please," said Rose softly, "come and have a drink."

They followed her through the cluttered house and into the surprisingly small kitchen. It resembled the inside of a furnace; one of the walls was made of brick and the rest were painted burnt orange. She busied herself by putting a kettle on the stove. Zanen, Eric and Chantra sat down around the spindly table, very silent.

"Where are Ron and Hermione and Hugo?" Al questioned. His tone sounded forcefully casual.

"Mum and Dad are on that wand protection mission." In contrast, Rose's voice was riddled with strained emotion. "Hugo is at the Burrow."

Suddenly Al was nearly shouting. "Why did you stay here all by yourself?" he demanded, making Zanen, Eric and Chantra all jump.

Tears sprouted out of Rose's eyes again. She turned away from Al. He jumped up and took her in his arms. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'm sorry I shouted, Rosie. D-don't make me think of losing you, too." Rose shifted and hugged him. "I know," she sighed.

Zanen sat in silence, staring hard at the table. He figured this girl Rose was Al's cousin. His body was exhausted and he felt drained and sick. His mind was beginning to churn back into gear despite everything. He mentally went through all the items they had packed up: a chest of firearms that had been in Harry's office, some food, extra clothes, magical items of the Potters and Zanen's now damaged books.

"Milk and sugar, sir?"

Zanen startled and refocused on the strange house-elf. It was carrying a tea tray. Zanen nodded and the elf mixed everything together over the tray which floated on its own when the creature snapped his fingers. Al and Rose joined them at the table. Now Al pulled out the three sticks from his pocket and set them down.

"Are those magic wands?" Eric piped up.

Rose looked at him curiously and Al nodded. Then she turned and frowned at her cousin.

"You took these wands, Al?"

"This one is mine," Al said, separating the lightest colored one. "This is James's, and this is dad's second wand." He pushed the third wand, the longest and darkest one, towards Rose. She seemed so surprised she forgot to grieve. "You took the Elder wand? Al, a-are you its master?"

Al looked away from her, but now she was staring at him as though he was transforming into a horrific alien. "Albus, what did you do?" she breathed shakily, eyes round and bright as quarters.

"I didn't do anything!" Al bristled.

Rose abruptly turned to look at Zanen and the other two. "Excuse us," she said bluntly. She grabbed Al by his collar and marched him out of the kitchen, despite his protests.

Zanen glanced at Eric.

"I can't believe these Wickeds are actually real," Eric muttered. He regarded his daughter. "What do you think, Chantra?"

Chantra shrugged and nibbled into the biscuits the elf had brought.

"You're holding out well, Your Highness," Eric stated. "You've adapted to this situation admirably. It must be difficult without all the luxuries you're used to."

Zanen took a sip of the tea. He nearly gagged at the terrible taste that reached his lips. He placed the cup back down and regained his composure. "Riches and idle time isn't something to be missed or desired. My mother would turn over in her grave if she knew I was missing living a palace life. I don't care if we have to stay in a shack. This is a time that calls for basic survival, nobody should be complaining."

"You speak like an adult," Eric chuckled. Zanen felt his own spirits rise slightly at Eric's cheeriness, whether or not it was put on for the sake of his daughter.

"I get it from the wisdom my mother gave me and the mind of metal His Majesty forged in my brain," Zanen sighed. A stir of anger flared up at the thought of Thor.

"You're not allowed to call him father, I imagine?" Eric mused.

Zanen's small smile turned fixed and sarcastic. Eric noticed and became nervous. "I'm allowed to call him whatever I wish," said Zanen coldly, "but I wouldn't call him father if it saved my life."

Al and Rose came back into the kitchen. Zanen was relieved to see them return tear-free. His heart sank, however, at the judgmental look Rose was giving him.

"So you're a Muggle prince?" she said. Zanen lowered his eyes. Rose made a tutting sound with her tongue. "Al says your life in danger. I think it's a matter of time before the lot of us are on the run. In the meantime we'll do what we can to help you."

"Forgive me for being a burden," Zanen drawled. He had almost missed uttering this phrase.

Rose looked taken aback then shrugged and waved his apology aside. "Don't worry about it, Muggle prince. There's too much heartache and loss to be dealing with. There is some much needed mourning time we need to block out."

Al lowered the tea he had been drinking. The steam had fogged up his glasses. He took them off and wiped them on his shirt. As he replaced them he began to speak to Rose, not looking at her. "Rosie, you remember my dad's stories. He…got strength from his friends and family, right? Even when they died?"

Rose paled and her eyes watered yet again. "They're all watching over us, Al."

"I hope you can understand that I don't want to face Ron and Hermione anytime soon," Al said hollowly.

Zanen had had enough. He stood up and felt the eyes of the others turn upon him. "Al, do you play chess? Let's have a match."

"I don't think this is the time to be playing chess," Rose said disapprovingly. "Al doesn't want –"

"Yeah, I will," Al interrupted. "Since I can't get my mind off of things by flying, let's play games. Ever played wizard's chess, Zanen?"

Zanen put his hand to his chin vaguely. "Teach me, Al."

"Esser, can you bring the wizard chess set?" Rose called. The elf threw itself into a bow and disappeared off into the house. He was back within a minute, skipping with the box in his little hands. "Thank you, Esser."

"What's the difference from regular chess?" Zanen asked as Al unfolded the board.

"The pieces are alive," Al replied. "You tell them where to go and they battle each other."

Somehow, by an innocent miracle, Zanen, Al, Rose and Eric played wizard's chess on into the late hours of the night watching their pieces beat each other up. Bottles of butterbeer were drunk, the candles burned into their wax, and Chantra fell asleep with her head on her arms. Nobody came close to beating Zanen (who went easy on them) but everyone enjoyed themselves. Zanen discovered what it was like to truly smile and have fun with his favorite game. It was a night he would never forget.

"Oh my, it's almost midnight," Rose yawned widely. "I guess I'm glad we did this. You're not half bad, Muggle Prince."

"You're not bad yourself, witch," Zanen smiled. She gave him a rather watery smile in return (she was still flowing tears sporadically).

"So shall we all get some rest?" Eric asked.

Zanen, Al and Rose all exchanged glances. The vulnerability of sleep was not something they wanted to face. Simply imagining the silence and the pain from the pressure of everything that had happened was enough to break any one of them down. Al and Rose seemed unable to speak.

"It's not smart to lower our guard," Zanen said to Eric. "The demons that pray on fear will come to us in sleep."

"What a thing today!" Eric gasped with a violent shudder. He cast a worried eye over Chantra.

"I wouldn't be surprised if dementors found their way here," Al groaned.

Rose rubbed her puffy eyes and yawned again. She gazed at Zanen blearily. He felt a foreign impulse to go over to her and hold her in his arms and cry with her.

The four of them jumped at the clanging of the doorbell; Chantra stirred.

Al automatically stood up. Rose put her hand on his arm. "No," she shook her head vigorously, suddenly wide awake. "That's not mum and dad, they apparate directly into this kitchen. Esser, go answer the door."

Esser bowed again and hurried into the entrance hall. They all listened to the sound of him unlocking the door and swinging it open with a creak, breathless. A man's voice gave a shout of surprise and there was a deafening bang. Zanen, Rose and Eric leapt to their feet and Chantra jerked awake.

"You lot stay here," Eric commanded. He reached into the bag he had brought in and pulled out a revolver. He turned and ran out of the kitchen to the front door. Zanen, Rose and Chantra waited. Chantra's lip trembled; Zanen took her and pulled her onto his lap, fastening his arms around her. They heard Eric exchange a brief dialogue and Zanen recognized the crack of a radio. There was a heavy thud.

Footsteps sounded and a white faced Eric returned to the kitchen. "It was a police officer dressed in dark red," he explained, his chest heaving. "He shot the poor house elf. He was in the middle of dispatching more officers when the dying elf lifted its hand; the man reached for his throat, turned blue and collapsed."

Rose had her hand over her mouth. "Esser?"

Eric hung his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "but he passed away right after he did that."

Rose now covered her face with both hands and began to sob. "I-It's all my fault!" she wailed. "I s-sent him to a-answer the d-door. I th-thought it might b-be Kin-Kingsley!"

"Rose," Zanen said urgently as Al hugged his cousin, his eyes also watering, "I'm sorry but we've got to get out of here. If he was wearing red, then that means he's an Imperial Officer. You are all in very real danger if he called for back up."

"Please pull yourself together, Rose," Eric pleaded, "we will pay our respects to Esser later. Can you think where to go?"

Rose held her breath and closed her eyes. With obvious difficulty she opened them and took in Zanen, Al, Eric and Chantra. She hiccoughed in fear at the piercing, intense glare Zanen was giving her. She nodded and swallowed.

"Let's go to the Burrow," Al suggested.

"How are we supposed to get to Ottery St. Catchpole?" Rose snapped; she seemed to be propelled by Zanen's demeanor.

"It doesn't matter," Zanen said harshly. "We need to leave! Now!" His voice cracked like a whip through kitchen and even Eric flinched.

"What are _you_ worried about, Prince?" Al snarled. "That's your army, isn't it?"

"Idiot," Zanen said icily, his panic turning into anger, "they want me dead."

Rose ran to a closet by the large grandfather clock. She rummaged through it and produced a little beaded bag. "Al, don't argue with him at a time like this. I've got everything in here. Someone needs to go get your things out of the car."

"I'll go," Eric offered. He left the room. Chantra made to run after him; Zanen stepped in front of her and held her arm in a tight grip. "He'll be back, Chantra."

"We'll go out the back and grab two broomsticks," Al said.

"Okay, let's go," Zanen instructed. They were running out of time. He heaved Chantra into his arms; the four of them waited until Eric came back laden with bags. Rose approached him. Zanen and Eric watched in astonishment as she seized each sack and shoved them one by one into the tiny beaded bag.

"We're ready," she announced to the room. Al led the way out the back kitchen door. The night was pitch black and they moved cautiously through the shadows. They followed him to what looked like the garden shed. He burst through the door. He turned around with two shiny wooden broomsticks.

"No way," Eric shook his head.

"There's no time to be scared," Zanen told him, while his own heart raced spastically.

"Al," Rose said in a quaking voice, "we can't take the three of them. Eric is going to be too heavy and we can't have three people on a broom at once."

From the front of the house came the sound of sirens.

"Then run!" Zanen shouted, fear bursting in his chest like a firework. The others didn't need telling twice. They sprinted off across the yard, running for their lives. They flew past garden furniture and bushes and unidentifiable shadows. Eric was carrying his daughter on his back and he was soon puffing and panting hard. Zanen felt a stitch in his side and got slightly dizzy. Al and Rose overtook them.

"Sl-slow down," Zanen gasped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. Even fear couldn't keep him going. He stopped abruptly. His mind was flashing back to the last time he had sprinted with horror moving his legs. A woman's scream resounded in his ears and an image of a bloodied figure flashed before his eyes.

Al, Rose and Eric skidded to a halt.

"Aren't you the one who told us to run?" Al said angrily. He seized the prince's wrist.

"Come on, Your Highness," Eric panted.

"Zanen," Rose said pleadingly, "please keep moving. We're not even a mile away! Come on!" She grabbed his other hand and the two young wizards pulled as hard as they could. "Snap out of it!" they screamed together.

_Go_, Zanen's mind told him forcefully. He finally found mobility and worked up to a jog. His throat was swelling up and he choked but he pushed himself as hard as he could. He needed to keep going, he knew it. He had to…

Ten minutes later the group slowed to a brisk walk. They still had to squint through the darkness and pick their way through the trees. Zanen was wheezing painfully and let out a hacking cough. He couldn't stop replaying the incident in his head.

"Do you have asthma, prince?" Eric asked, concerned.

They reached the dim orange glow of a street light and Al, Rose and Eric turned to look at Zanen.

"Why are you crying?" Rose cried and she threw her arms around him.

Zanen wiped away the tears he had not even noticed were there. His whole body was shaking. He froze uncertainly in Rose's embrace, feeling the uncomfortable warmth of her pressed into him. He pushed her away. She looked hurt and affronted but he did not notice. However, slowly but surely his brain functions were returning to him. The images were beginning to subside.

"We need a plan," he said as though the last fifteen minutes had never happened. If he let the others fall into danger, he told himself, he would be responsible. If he got killed then Lady Amira's murder was all for nothing. He needed to survive for her sake.

"What do you suggest we do?" Eric asked as Chantra slid down his back onto the ground. He gripped her hand tightly.

"I don't even know where we are," Rose said nervously.

"As long as we stay off the main roads we should be safe," Al said.

Zanen turned away from them, forcing his mind into action. His body may have proved itself useless but he realized he had to now compensate for that even more with logic and strategy. The first thing he had to do was judge his opponent's position.

"The Imperial Army has been dispatched," he said thoughtfully, "that must mean that it's started. They will do whatever they can do reach me and kill me."

"Why do you say that now?" Eric cried, startling Zanen. "Did you know this all along, Your Highness?"

Zanen sighed. "His Majesty used me as a political tool. If he could make it seem like Wickeds killed me, he could use that as an excuse to declare war. My death is essential for the outcome of war."

"He used his own son for that?" Rose whispered, her wide eyes on him. Zanen faced them, his heart once again heavy.

"I hope that gives you an idea of his character," Zanen told them, returning to his cold and calculating persona rapidly. "Now…I wonder how we can track the army's movements?"

"Perhaps this will help?" said Eric. He took a handheld radio out of his pocket and handed it to Zanen. Zanen gave him a small smile of appreciation.

"Perfect," he muttered. He twiddled the dials on the walkie talkie. The others stood watching him silently. They listened to the variations of static noise. "It's too quiet," Zanen thought aloud, "there should be music station interference. They've shut down all radio channels." He frowned at the walkie talkie, working through the puzzle step by step. All of Britain's communications were down, yet the officer had contacted the army through this device. Was it possible they were using Americana mainland radio waves? If they were, that meant they had brought a radio base and were without a doubt occupying 'Wicked Isle.' Zanen figured there had to be a specific channel and a code.

"Zanen?"

"Hush," Eric said quickly.

He turned the dial to channel one. Muffled and blurred voices cracked through the white noise. On the number pad he punched in the area code of the government district back in the empire's capital: 800. Instantly sharp voices issued out of the speaker. Al, Rose and Eric gasped.

"Base to Officer Reid, do you copy?"

"Officer Reid, roger."

"By the order of General Bruce, commence evacuation processes of all citizens."

"We'll dispatch the ships now, roger."

Zanen lowered the volume.

"They're evacuating England?" Eric repeated.

"Only non magical people," Zanen said darkly. He gripped the radio tightly. "Wickeds are not considered citizens. Either way, it doesn't affect us. The five of us aren't going anywhere. This is the base in Americana. I need the one that is local…"

"Do you hear that?" Al hissed in a hushed tone.

The words "We have detected your signal," were barely audible. Zanen raised the volume. "This device is loaded with a remote explosive. If you do not state your identity we will activate it. This is your only warning."

Zanen raised his eyes to look at the others, who were plainly terrified. He couldn't be sure this was true but he could not take the chance.

The sound of an engine reached their ears. They each turned around and spotted a large black car coming around the distant corner. Zanen tossed the radio to Al, who caught it, startled. Zanen took a deep breath and walked out into the middle of the road. Ignoring their panicked calls, Zanen raised his hand.

The driver slammed on its brakes. Rose and Chantra both screamed but Zanen summoned courage from deep within and stood his ground. The Rangerover SUV swerved, missing him by a few feet, and came to an ungraceful stop. The door opened and the angry driver dismounted. 

"What do you think you're doing?" A man with graying hair and glasses bellowed. "I nearly killed you, damn kid!"

"Give me your car," Zanen demanded.

The man was outraged. "Absolutely not. Didn't you hear the news? All citizens are evacuating. I've got my family with me…"

"I am Crown Prince Zanen Muhammad Ubel de Americana," Zanen announced. This struck the man silent and his jaw dropped. "I command you to hand over your vehicle. To deny me is to defy His Majesty and the holy Americana Empire, which is punishable by death."

The man leaned on his car for support and clutched his chest. "B-but my family," he stuttered. "Please, we need to leave. I'll offer to take you with us, Your Royal Highness."

At this moment a woman with a long face and curly brown hair stuck her head out of the passenger window. "This is utter rubbish!" she shrieked. "Prince Zanen is dead, that is the whole reason for this evacuation."

"Emily," the man said shakily.

"Do you need persuasion?" Al asked from behind Zanen. Al, Rose, and Eric all held up three weapons: the wizards with pistols and Eric with a tommy gun.

"Don't shoot!" the man yelled desperately. Sweat glistened on his brow. His wife opened the door and jumped out.

"Leave," said Zanen calmly. "Leave and we won't be forced to hurt you."

"Give me a second, for Christ's sake," simpered the woman. She opened the back door and helped a young child to the ground.

"Where's the radio?" Zanen muttered to the others. Al placed it in his outstretched hand. Zanen walked up to the man who appeared to be having a panic attack. The man blinked rapidly and accepted the radio.

"Call for help, you will be picked up," Zanen told him.

"Prince," Eric said uncertainly.

Zanen ignored him and gestured for the man to move. He scrambled out of the way and joined his wife and son on the sidewalk.

"Thank you," Zanen said to him. "Get in."

Eric hurried into the driver's seat. Al, Rose and Chantra piled into the back seats. Zanen settled into the passenger seat. "Drive."

Eric took off and sped away from the scene. Less than sixty seconds later a deafening explosion took place, illuminating the dark night, setting a tree ablaze and sending parts of houses flying. Rose and Chantra screamed again, and then a terrible silence filled the vehicle.

Zanen knew at that moment he had signed his soul away to the devil at the shy age of twelve. His stomach churned and he was hit by a wave of nausea. He forced it away and glowered at the road disappearing underneath the car. He did what he had to do. But the weight of the three peoples' lives settled on his shoulders like a physical burden.

He knew he had just lost the trust of his companions. He had to gain it back.

He opened his mouth to speak but instead a slew of vomit spilled out onto the dash in front of him.

"Get him some water," Rose said shakily.

Zanen felt the car lose speed. He flapped his hand at Eric. "Keep going, don't stop." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Dignity no longer mattered to him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and Al dropped a bottle of water onto his lap. Zanen unscrewed the cap and downed it gratefully. The silenced stretched on until Zanen had managed to master himself.

"I understand if you've lost your trust in me," he said thickly.

"No, prince," Eric said quietly. "You would only lose our trust if you turned against us. I know you had to do that. It was an unfortunate situation. You managed to save us…."

"You're all we've got, Zanen," said Al. "We've got no choice but to follow you."

Zanen sighed. He was truly grateful but still felt appalled at himself. The image of his mother appeared and he retched again.

"Why'd you do it, Zanen?" Rose whimpered.

"Not now, Rosie," Al muttered.

"No!" Rose was getting hysterical. She leaned forward so her face was level with Zanen and Eric's. Zanen threw up for the third time at the wave of guilt that hit him. "Why couldn't we have just left them? If the world knows you're alive then there won't be a war!"

Zanen shook his pounding head. He drank more water and couldn't help but notice the others seemed to be waiting for him to explain himself. They were all he had in this entire world now. He could not let them go. He had to settle this matter.

"Please don't be naïve," he said at last, his voice gravelly and choked from his burning esophagus and thudding heart. "Even if we had thrown it to a harmless place the army would have investigated the area. If we left those people to be interrogated and then murdered at gunpoint for being eyewitnesses to the Empire's mistake…isn't that just as bad?"

Rose put her head against Zanen's seat head rest. The others didn't say anything.

"The army knows there's a possibility I'm alive," he added darkly. "That didn't stop them from publicizing a lie and starting war." He sighed and closed his eyes. It was hard to believe he had arrived in England just over twelve hours ago. In that time seven people and an elf had died yet he had forged a solid alliance with a bizarre compilation of a driver, a child and two wizards who were supposed to hate him.

Al spoke up. "Hey, they've got plenty of food stashed back here. We managed to forget to bring food."

"Er, can't wizards just whip up food by magic?" Eric asked with the tone of one dying with curiosity but not wanting to seem ignorant.

"We can't," said Rose, sounding surprised at such a question. "Honestly, we can't do much because we didn't even get through our first year at school. I'm good at fire spells and summoning charms and Al is great at shield charms and that explosive curse. It's funny because we learned those on our own. Al can't even make light yet though. Luckily I'm the cleverest witch of our year."

Zanen slouched against the door moodily and folded his arms. He didn't feel like talking for a while.

"What's in the bag you brought, Rose?" Al asked through an enormous yawn.

"I'm not sure," Rose said quietly, fiddling with the strap of the beaded bag. "Mum just told me to take it if there was ever an emergency."

A thought struck Zanen. He sat up straight. "Eric, if England is evacuating, shouldn't there be more traffic? There was awful traffic earlier, but now the roads are deserted. Mind you, it is two in the morning…."

"I was thinking the same thing, prince," Eric said as he switched lanes. He followed the curve of the ramp that entered the high speed motorway. As they reached the main road, all Zanen saw was a solid mass of headlights stretching on for as far as the eye could see. The people were evacuating south, presumably towards the coast. Their car was the only vehicle going in the direction of north.

It was going to be a lonely, dangerous journey. Zanen knew these people had the choice to flee; but they had decided to push through together. Whatever came at them, they would survive together.

Even if there is only one comrade left, Zanen thought fiercely,_ I will never leave them_.

.


End file.
